


Dying Alone

by Ellenar_Ride



Series: Mending Links [12]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords Adventures
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Green doesn't like to be alone, Mending Links 'Verse, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24137719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellenar_Ride/pseuds/Ellenar_Ride
Summary: Green can’t bring himself to speak it aloud. Can’t force his tongue to shape the sounds that will describe, in any sort of detail, the haunting dreamscape he has borne witness to, the grim tableau of blood and suffering that ended the life of all of his siblings. Cannot bear to speak into truth the crushing panic that collapsed his lungs at the sight of that heavy lid, that slab of rock that weighed more than he did, sliding into place over the coffin in which he lay, aware but unable to move.(Prompt: Trauma)
Series: Mending Links [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545610
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Dying Alone

The Quartet, as the four Heroes of Light have come to be called, are some of the youngest Links in residence at just fourteen years old—the only ones younger are Minor, at nine, and Way, at thirteen. The frequent end result of this age gap is an often-stifling desire, on the part of the older Links, to coddle the younger ones. While Green finds this attitude insufferable in the face of everyday tasks, there are other times he doesn’t mind it quite so much.

Such as right now, for instance, sitting in the living room at two in the morning, listening to the crackle of a dying fire in the hearth and the light _pitter-patter_ of the gentle sprinkle outside, trying not to think of the nightmare that sent him fleeing from his bed even as it plays on the inside of his eyelids every time he blinks. He isn’t alone for more than fifteen minutes before Sav creeps out of the bunkroom to check on him.

 _Sorry I took so long, I had to get Myth settled with Major,_ he says, low and soft. _Are you alright?_

Moving a sleepy Myth is a tedious process, Green knows. If he’s actually managed to fall asleep, he has to be woken up and informed about the move. He’ll nap with people, sometimes, but if the person he wakes up to isn’t the person he fell asleep with (or, Hylia forbid, if he wakes up _alone)_ it takes hours to calm him down again. It’s something to do with his past, Green is sure, and he’s not about to begrudge his family their traumas.

 _I dreamed I was alone,_ Green says, barely loud enough to be heard over the ambiance of the night.

_And you came out here, to sit alone?_

Green bites his cheek. Maybe Sav will get it. Maybe he won’t. Either way, Green can’t bring himself to speak it aloud. Can’t force his tongue to shape the sounds that will describe, in any sort of detail, the haunting dreamscape he has borne witness to, the grim tableau of blood and suffering that ended the life of all of his siblings. Cannot bear to speak into truth the crushing panic that collapsed his lungs at the sight of that heavy lid, that slab of rock that weighed more than he did, sliding into place over the coffin in which he lay, aware but unable to move. The grating, grinding sound of stone dragging over stone still rumbles in his ears. He can still feel the vibrations in his bones. He knows now, as surely as he knew then, that he is going to die, alone and unseen—he will breathe all of the air in this miniscule tomb and his lungs will collapse and he will die gasping, alone, and no-one will ever know.

A hand brushes over his back, feather-light, and only in comparison to its steadiness does Green realize how violently he’s trembling. _Breathe, Green,_ Sav says, and Green becomes aware that he is not, in fact, breathing—his lungs have seized up and his chest is tight, and his mouth hangs open ever so slightly but he is not taking in any new air. He breathes with a shuddering gasp that knocks free his tears, and then he is sobbing, as quietly as he can, trying and failing to suppress those shaking cries.

Another little gasp breaks free with a deafening _crack_ in the stillness as his control shatters, and he buries his face in Sav’s shoulder to stifle the sound. He can still hear the coffin lid sliding; it rings endlessly in his ears, dragging on and on until he loses all other auditory input.

 _I don’t want to be alone,_ Green babbles into Sav’s shoulder. _I had to leave or I would wake the others, I need to check on them and they would wake up, so I needed to leave but I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want to die alone, Sav, don’t let me die alone._

He falls silent when he has used up all of the air in his lungs, trembling and crying, choking on another inhale. Sav is straight-backed against him, drawn up to as full a height as he can manage while sitting, muscles so tense Green can feel him shaking. It’s almost enough to drown out the phantom rumble of the lid.

_You’re not going to die, Green—alone or otherwise. We’re here with you. Come on, let me show you._

Green is given no time to protest as Sav stands, the taller Link pulling him up into his arms, and makes his way up the creaky stairs back to the bunkroom.

 _You’re not going to wake anyone up, and if they_ do _they won’t be upset, I promise._

Sav stands in the middle of the bunkroom and turns a slow circle to let him see that everyone is in their bunk—even Dei’s mask has been laid out on a soft cushion in an empty bed, the soft glow suggesting he’s hibernating within. Green studies their faces; here is Sand and Wolf and Mort, there are Split and Shift and Way. Tribal bunks at the far end of the room, one hand tucked under her pillow in a way that tells Green she’s clutching a knife. The remaining three-quarters of the Quartet huddle in a pile on a single bunk, three empty bunks surrounding them. Everyone is here.

When Green’s gaze lands on Major and Myth, curled together, he realizes they’re already awake when their eyes meet his. Myth reaches out for them, waving imperiously, and Sav laughs ever-so-softly and crawls into the now-crowded bunk with them, shuffling until Green and Myth and squashed between an unimpressed-but-indulgent Major and a grinning Sav. A moment later Minor joins the pile with a mischievous grin, stretching himself out like a cat over everyone’s legs, and the room returns to silence as sleep lays claim to them all.

**Author's Note:**

> And thus we begin the mini-series that is the Quartet! Since I said these are posted in order of arriving at the Homestead, and you know the Quartet arrived together, we know the next three pieces will be the remainder of the FSA Links! As to whose piece comes when, even I don't know yet.
> 
> (Myth how did you sneak your way in here, this is supposed to be _Green's_ piece. I swear.)
> 
> Yes, this chapter does end with four (debatably five, but Minor isn't exactly playing inside the rules here) people crammed into something barely wider than a twin bed. For those who are curious, Major is on his side with his back shoved into the wall (and he _will_ be complaining about that in the morning, don't you worry), Myth is sort of halfway between being on his side and on his back, Green is mostly on his back but also mostly on top of Myth so not taking up all that much more space, and Sav is only not falling off the bunk because he's also mostly on top of Green. Like, ///|. They're pretty much a row of dominoes. No, I don't know why I put so much thought into this. What can I say, my brain focuses on weird details.


End file.
